


I wanna hold your hand

by thevaliantdust



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5859730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevaliantdust/pseuds/thevaliantdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe if the world wasn’t crumbling around them she’d think about what exactly this meant</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wanna hold your hand

**Author's Note:**

> A moment in episode 40 that deserved a little acknowledgement

It’s far from the perfect moment, but there’s never really a perfect moment for them. All she knows is that he’s hurting, and she’s hurting, and right in this moment holding his hand makes it that fraction better.

Maybe if the world wasn’t crumbling around them she’d think about what exactly this meant.

Maybe she’d think about the fact that there had been a lot of hand holding lately. Sometimes by him, sometimes by her, sometimes reaching for each other at precisely the same moment. Always in times of stress, or rush, or need. But those were also times of honesty, simplicity. Times where what was _smart_ , what was better for everyone else faded into a hum and it was just them.

Maybe she’d think about sitting close to him, alcohol heating her veins, head lolling against his shoulder. Maybe she’d recall the briefest moment where his hand slipped around her waist, dipping down against the curve of her body before he pulled back as if scalded by his own conscience, only settling chastely on her hip when she placed his hand there herself.

Maybe, if this were the time, she’d think back to those frantic moments fighting for life outside the keep. She’d find the tenderness in his scrabbling fingers grasping for hers in the brief seconds they spent sheltered under the same tree. She’d convince herself she hadn’t imagined the look they shared, the mutual plea for the other to live to see another day.

Maybe, she would imagine a future where she could hold his hand, _just because_. In a moment of peace, a moment where the only threat was losing their nerve.

But in this moment, this fleeting, fateful moment, she thinks of nothing at all. Nothing but the way his hand engulfs hers as she reaches out to him, the odd juxtaposition of his gentle but vice-like grip. Nothing but the way his pain bleeds through their contact, meeting hers, finding its match.

This really isn’t the moment, so she doesn’t say it, but for the tiniest second she thinks, maybe, this is where she should be.


End file.
